


Búho de la Muerte

by FireFaceOutlook



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child!Reader - Freeform, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 18:32:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16392923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireFaceOutlook/pseuds/FireFaceOutlook
Summary: “¡Hola, pequeño!  I'm so sorry you got stuck with Grumpy Gabe.”You registered that she was speaking to you, but you could only gaze wide-eyed at the dashboard.  Reaper (Gabe?) grunted.“They won't speak.”“Probably because you're a búho de la muerte.  You'rescary, amigo.”He grunted again, causing Sombra to chuckle.





	Búho de la Muerte

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N: Because the world could use more child!reader inserts, in my opinion. I tried my best, but this is my first time writing a reader insert from the point of view (kind of) of a kid, haha. I hope it's okay.**  
>  _Prompt(s): Pleading eyes, begging lips, and shaking hands. All were covered with red._  
>  _Chains were tied around their ankles, shackling them to the wall. They couldn't escape, no matter how hard they tried._ **[@nightmarish-reverie-prompts : tumblr]**

“Sombra?” Reaper rasped into the comm, standing in one of the many elevators scattered around the Talon base he was currently occupying. It was somewhere in France, about an hour out from Paris. He despised being there, but it was the only base with little-to-no competent security measures, and he requested to be sent there to follow a “lead” he had on an ex-member of Overwatch. All the agents assigned to the base were terrified of him and scattered whenever he came into view. It was the perfect place to investigate. He was watching the numbers tick down slowly on the screen in the corner as he went from the “ground floor” (Floor 5) to the “main base” (Floor 0).

_“I know, I know, Gabe.”_

The screen in the corner glowed purple, Sombra's sugar skull tag appearing in the background. The elevator didn't stop at zero, instead descending into the negatives. Reaper sighed, leaning against the back wall and crossing his arms until the elevator halted at Floor -8. He straightened, hands dropping to his sides, prepared to grab his weapons.

 _“Relax,”_ Sombra teased. _“All security cameras are looped, and the guards for this floor are in the middle of a shift change. It'll take at least fifteen minutes for the next group to arrive. There's two guards watching the camera feeds.”_

Grunting in acknowledgment, Reaper stepped through the doors once they slid open. An endless hall of grey, dotted with reinforced steel doors, greeted him. He began walking, taking note of the cameras he passed so if he wanted to glare at Sombra, he knew where to direct his gaze; his footsteps were thundering sounds compared to the silence or muffled sobs coming from behinds the doors.

_“Two lefts and a right.”_

He wasn't here for any of the victims in those rooms – his destination was the control room on that floor, which could contain some information about the traitors who'd helped bring about the end of Overwatch, and the explosion in Zürich. He made the two lefts and was closing in on the right turn when he heard voices. He immediately flattened himself against the wall as the words morphed into raucous laughter.

“I thought the guards were _gone_ , Sombra,” he rumbled, peering towards the noise and seeing one of the cell doors cracked open.

 _“Oops.”_ Sombra didn't sound apologetic in the least, but there was a current of confusion in her voice. _“There aren't any cameras in the rooms, except the control room. I didn't do more than a quick sweep of the floor for guards before I looped the feed. Whatever they're doing, they're probably too busy to notice if you sneaked past.”_

Rolling his shoulders, annoyed but knowing it probably wouldn't turn out to be too much of a hassle, Reaper let the edges of his body un-knit, gliding silently to the hall. He peered into the room in passing, more to make sure the men didn't look out and see him than anything, but found himself stopping abruptly.

_“Hey, what's wrong? Why'd you stop moving? … Gabe?”_

He could barely see past the two guards, but he made out a small form cowering in the corner, facing away from their tormentors and the door, and silent despite the boots meeting their spine and ribs. They were quite obviously a child, and rage consumed Reaper before he even considered taking action. He released his hold on his nanites, letting his form crumble until only a cloud of nanites remained, and they split into two streams, surging into the mouths of the guards as they screamed in surprise and fear. It only took a few seconds for their souls to be consumed from the inside, and, temporarily satiated, the nanites left the empty husks, letting them drop to the floor. Reaper reformed between the bodies and the prisoner; he felt sick, and this time it wasn't just because of the feeling of going from a zillion consciousnesses into one.

The victim was curled up in a ball, their arms wrapped around themselves and barely doing anything to halt their trembling. Their head was shaved and their skin was almost white. They were peering up at him, and their pleading eyes were pale. He recognized the signs of albinism, but he couldn't tell if it was natural or a symptom of experiments. They were much younger than even McCree had been when Gabriel Reyes took him from the Deadlock Gang.

_“-be? Gabriel! ¡Contéstame, idiota!”_

Reaper grumbled lowly in irritation. “I'm here. Sombra, I need you to get me information on the people they have locked up on this base.”

Sombra had the gall to tut at him. _“Sorry, amigo. I'm already on thin ice because I'm suspected of planting a virus that scrubbed clean all the information Talon amassed about Los Muertos.”_

“Did you?” Her brief silence was all the answer he needed. “Fine. Nevermind.” He returned his attention to the child. “Stand up, kid.”

They didn't move, just stared at him. He growled and moved to grab their arm, but they scrambled to their feet before he could touch them. They barely came to his chest in height, and they were bony in a lack-of-food way, so much so that he could see the wisps of their soul escaping from their chest. They had on a pair of ratty pants and a too-small shirt, allowing an unobscured view of the bruises decorating their skin and the dried blood on their fingertips, where their nails should've been; they had a split lip and a ring of purple around their throat. Chains were clamped around their ankles, connected to the wall.

_“Gabe. You only have seven minutes before the guards return. They're already on their way down, and I can only stall them so long. You have to get to the control room now, or the information you're after is as good as lost to you.”_

Reaper immediately turned to leave, but stopped at the doorway, feeling the child's eyes on him. He didn't even know if the information he was after was there – it was a low profile base, anyway. He could get much more sensitive material in China or even Oasis. He glanced over his shoulder at the kid and sighed heavily, turning around and pulling his shotguns. The child looked ready to pass out, somehow paling further, and leapt with a sharp cry (the first noise he'd heard from them this entire time) when he fired off two shots, effectively breaking the chains. He dropped his guns, which turned into nanites as soon as they hit the floor and rejoined his body.

“Follow me,” he ordered before leaving the room and heading back for the elevator.

He didn't really care whether or not the brat did (or even understood) what he told them. He wasted too much time there and if he wasn't going to be getting what he originally came for, he wanted to get out before he got caught. When he reached the elevator, the doors slid open and he stepped in. He turned to face the doors in time to witness the child slip inside and move to stand at the back on the opposite side of him.

“Sombra, prepare the ship for departure.”

_“Sure. But what are you going to do with the pequeño?”_

“... I don't know.” He glanced at his new, self-imposed burden. “You can call me 'Reaper.' What's your name?”

**Silence.**

  


\- - -

  


There were a few people lingering on the ground floor when you and Reaper arrived, so he wanted to hide you within the confines of his cloak. You didn't really want to, but when he tried to manhandle you into doing as he said, you rushed to obey before he could lay a finger on you. The guards' shoes and fists hurt a lot when they touched you; you didn't want to find out how much worse his claws would feel. You ended up shuffling directly at his heels under the tail of his cloak, huddled as close to his leg as you could get without actually touching him. He was considerate enough to slow down, just a little, so you wouldn't get left behind, though you could feel him tense every time you passed someone, even if they all quickly put distance between themselves and him. (You didn't blame them – he was really intimidating.) When you finally made it on the ship he'd mentioned before, he turned into the same mass of shadows that killed the guards and flew to the front seat, pointing a claw at the neighboring seat.

“Sit.”

You hesitated, wanting very much to remain in the back, but when he made as if to stand, you ran across the ship and practically dove onto the chair. You struggled with the belts, freezing when Reaper reached over after a moment and buckled them in for you. The ship was already taking off by then, without him having to do anything. He messed with something on the side of his skull, then clicked a few buttons in the dashboard.

“Sombra, are Moira or Akande back?”

You nearly jumped when a new voice crackled out of the radio. _“Todavía no. But you'll be cutting it close by the time you get back.”_

“Get some medical supplies from the Infirmary's supply closet and bring them to my room. Don't empty the cabinets like you did _last_ time.”

The woman – Sombra – laughed sheepishly. _“Okay.”_ The radio light flickered purple. _“¡Hola, pequeño! I'm so sorry you got stuck with Grumpy Gabe.”_

You registered that she was speaking to you, but you could only gaze wide-eyed at the dashboard. Reaper (Gabe?) grunted.

“They won't speak.”

_“Probably because you're a búho de la muerte. You're_ scary _, amigo.”_

He grunted again, causing Sombra to chuckle.

_“Nos vemos en un rato!”_

The purple faded, leaving you and Reaper to sit alone in a (slightly) tense atmosphere. Your stomach interrupted the thick silence, growling loudly, demanding food it's been forbidden from consuming for weeks now. Reaper sighed heavily – he seemed to do that a lot – and stood. (He'd never even buckled his belts.) He disappeared in the back and you squinted out the window at the puffy white clouds, lit brightly by the sunlight. You couldn't remember the last time you were outside, if you ever _were_ – the Medicine you were given every time you'd been taken to the Doctor made your memories of your life before The Room fuzzy.

“Here.”

You looked up, blinking away the dark spots in your vision, and saw Reaper was offering a sealed packet of chips to you. You reached for it, careful not to touch his hand as you grabbed the bottom, and work on trying to pry it open as he reclaims his seat. You can't help glancing over every few seconds as he glares out the windshield, arms crossed and fingers tapping against his dark sleeves.

You twisted your lips, eyeing the way his _very sharp looking_ claws gleamed. _“You should put your belts on,”_ was on the tip of your tongue, but just as your parted your lips, you felt his eyes on you.

“ _What?_ ”

Your mouth suddenly became dry and you clamped it shut, dropping your eyes to the floor and holding out the packet and shaking it instead. He took it, tearing the top open and tossing it back – you fumbled and barely managed to catch it without spilling any of it. If this was how your entire time spent with him was going to go, it was going to be incredibly stressful. Maybe you would've been better off in The Room.

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N: Maybe I'll come up with a better chapter title one day, lol. I think this first part turned out pretty well, but let me know what you guys think. Either way, I'm continuing it. I have a check list (sort of) to follow, so the next part should be out pretty soon. I hope you enjoyed reading this! Comments and Kudos appreciated!**   
>  ****  
>  _Translations: (All corrections welcome!)_   
>    
>  _¡Contéstame, idiota! - Answer me, you idiot!_   
>  _Pequeño – Little one_   
>  _Todavía no – Not yet_   
>  _Búho de la muerte – Death owl_   
>  _Nos vemos en un rato – See you in a bit_


End file.
